My final wishes

Sitting in a hospital tonight with my husband, listening to the sound of his father’s restless stirring and the mechanical beeps that are uniquely hospital-driven, it reminded me that I have already laid down the law on my funeral.

And before you sit there and scratch your head thinking I’m really weird for having preferences about my funeral at thirty-five years old, just remember that I’ve had a LOT of time to think about my wishes.

Let’s see: I had a stroke at thirty, a toddler with cancer, more funerals in the last two years than I ever thought I’d attend in my lifetime, my mother’s pulmonary embolisms, my father’s open heart surgery and my father-in-laws myriad issues.

Sort of makes you glad you’re not me, doesn’t it?

WORD!

Ya’ll are just lucky I haven’t turned into a cutter.

I’ve had time to think about death and how I want mine to go and Peter has totally agreed to do it my way, should I go first.

Acting like it was such a generous thing.

DUDE, if I’m dead the least you can do is stick with the freaking plan!

And not to be terribly inappropriate at a time when Pete’s dad is so very sick (but really, how else would I be?), I know that I want my funeral to be a time of laughter. I have made it a point to face the crap life has thrown us with a smile as often as we can.

I truly believe if you can’t find something to laugh about there’s just no reason to go on.

If you can’t find ONE reason to laugh at my funeral, I really don’t want you there.

So, in keeping with my last wishes, MY husband knows how I want it to go down and I will share it with you all so that you can make sure if I get hit by a falling piano tomorrow that he does it right.

I guess I need to work on mine, jazz it up a bit. I’ve had mine all planned out, too. My grandmother and I discuss it all the time. (Both of ours. She keeps changing the music she wants played, but that’s really as exciting as it gets.)

Now, let’s see your obituary. Wasn’t it The Wonder Years (I dunno how to underline here) where Kevin was given the assignment to write his own obituary, I think in middle school? I don’t have mine written, but I do think about it from time to time. I think the MOST important thing is that I go ahead and choose the pictures I want. Jason would totally suck that up. Music, he’d probably screw that one up, too. I’m sure you are up to speed with little Baby Leo, I have been reading Lori’s blog and I am so relieved to see that his tests came back okay. There, now there’s something not-funeral-or-death-related for you to think about….how much longer are you stayin’ up north?

The only plan for my funeral I have is that I want a bouncer type guy at the door to keep out people who didn’t bother with me in life but now want to go all tragedy-whore because I’m dead. I will have a list and if you’re not on it you’re not getting in. Just tryin’ to keep it real.

Trust you to come up with a Rube Goldberg device! If Pete does manage to make it a mile long then I just might have to cross the Atlantic to watch you go out with a bang. But please don’t plan on making it anytime soon – I don’t think I can afford it just yet!

I’m donating my organs (assuming anyone would want them) and then I’m getting cremated. And the party that my husband has been instructed to throw will be teh awesome. But if you die first, I’m TOTALLY coming to see your Rube Goldberg device.

Sadly, I have had this conversation lately. My idea wasn’t nearly as cool. Re-thinking funeral plans as I type.

To whoever told you earlier you were being inappropriate, they can shove it. Life isn’t easy (some times it just sucks donkey balls) and you can either cry about it all the time or you can learn to laugh. Laughter is a medicine stronger than any drug I happen to be on right now.